This is my take on the MCU relationship of Hawkeye and Black Widow, and how two completely flawed individuals came together to help save the world and each other.

Notes: This story idea got started after I randomly heard the song Broken Arrows by Avicii. Honestly, I didn't even like the song that much, but the lyrics stuck with me. This is strictly an MCU story, not comic related, since Clint and Natasha meet very differently in the comics. I'm also not sure if it is considered an AU since the movies never actually told us very much about how the two met.

Thank you for reading!

'Cause it's not too late, it's not too late
I, I see the hope in your heart
And sometimes you lose it, sometimes you're shooting
Broken arrows in the dark
But I, I see the hope in your heart

I've seen the darkness in the light
The kind of blue that leaves you lost and blind
The only thing that's black and white
Is that you don't have to walk alone this time

Broken Arrows by Avicii

9999999999

Clint Barton sat quietly on a rooftop in the dark watching the streets below. He'd been following his target for the past three days and at this point, he was anxious to get the job over with and get back home.

Getting into Russia and moving around was much easier than the first time he had to do it as a 22 year old new SHIELD agent just a few years after the fall of communism. Then, it was secret boat rides in the middle of the night, clandestine meetings with translators and wilderness travel.

This time, he was able to get into the country just by booking a hunting trip with a travel guide who was easy enough to pay off. It even gave him a reason to bring in his bow and rifle, even if both were thoroughly checked out before he was allowed to leave the airport. He suspected that the Canadian passport he presented helped insure that the process was smoother than it might otherwise have been. He'd also learned to speak better Russian over the years, which made things much easier.

He was actually surprised at how easily he tracked his target down, given that she was a highly trained spy that SHIELD deemed such a serious threat to National Security that she had to be eliminated. They'd been given a tip that she was staying at a fancy hotel in St. Petersburg as the guest of some old red faced bureaucrat, and that they were scheduled to be there for another five days. Armed only with a somewhat blurry picture of a red head, he was able to spot her quickly. Her hair was blonde, a wig he suspected, and she was dressed provocatively, likely to keep the attention of the man that he suspected was her own target.

Nothing about this mission sat well with him. She was so damn young. That was the first thing he noticed about her. She couldn't have been older than 20-21 years old. Beautiful too, but that wasn't a surprise. From what little they knew about the Soviet spy program that she had been a part of, these women were trained from a very early age, not only as spies and killers, but also in how to make themselves attractive to whatever type of man or woman they were targeting.

She was also likely in a bad position. The program she was raised in didn't exist anymore, having been shut down by the Russian government two years ago. Most everyone involved had fallen off the face of the earth, likely executed or hidden away to cover up all evidence of the program's existence, except for her. She'd managed to get away and became something of a freelancer. She was well trained and willing to use her skills for the highest bidder. Clint knew all too well what it was like to have a special skill set that was appropriate for questionable activities and feeling like you had no choice but to use them if you wanted to survive. It also showed that she was brave as hell. The Russians were looking for her, but here she was, back in Russia on some mission of her own.

Of course, the possibility existed that she just really enjoyed the work, but from the little bit of time he'd spent watching her, he wasn't ready to believe that yet. Her list of crimes was long, and some of the things that she was responsible for were shocking, but he wasn't sure that he was the person to judge her. After all, he was sitting on a rooftop getting ready to kill her just because SHIELD told him to.

Clint was surprised when she and the red faced bureaucrat returned to the hotel much earlier than he expected. They had gone out the past two nights and returned late enough that the streets around the hotel were mostly empty. It would have been a perfect time to take the shot. Now though, there were too many damn people around on the street for him to do it and not worry about getting away safely. He watched them enter the hotel and relaxed his bow, cursing to himself quietly.

If the past two nights were any indication, they'd be in for the night. He gathered up his gear and climbed down the ladder to the alley below. He'd go get a bite to eat, make a few phone calls and rest for a few hours before he'd return to the roof hoping for better luck tomorrow.

As his boots hit the ground, he heard a sound and turned to find a man entering the alley from the road. He dived behind a trashcan before the man could see him. He was older than Clint, late 40's maybe, with dark hair. He looked impatiently at his watch before pacing the alley, obviously waiting for someone else to arrive.

Clint couldn't believe his luck when that someone turned out to be his target. Killing her in front of the hotel was proving more difficult than he'd hoped, but in an alley? That wouldn't be a problem. He crouched down behind the trashcan and quietly removed his bow from his bag. They spoke in quick Russian, and he could just barely make out the conversation.

"We meet again, Малышка. You are late, and I was growing impatient," the man complained to her.

"What do you want, Vasily?"

"What do you think I want? There are many people searching for Natalia Romanova, and imagine my surprise when you strolled right into my brother's restaurant, with none other than Ilya Anvilov at your side. Turning you over to our old friends, and helping to ruin Anvilov at the same time will not only be quite profitable, but bring me good will with some very important people. Now, tell me what you know of him, and I might turn you over without hurting you first."

Romanova considered a moment before she spoke. "As far as I can tell, this man has no weaknesses to exploit. His businesses are legitimate, he doesn't drink to excess, he calls his mother, and while he likes to be seen with a pretty woman on his arm, he is a perfect gentleman behind closed doors. He even booked me my own room. There have been no secret meetings or unusual phone calls. He hired me to be his bodyguard, and nothing more. I think it is possible that Ilya Anvilov is a good man."

The man grabbed her and pushed her against the wall. "No one asked you to think, шлюха."

Clint didn't know what шлюха meant, but whatever it was it earned the man a knee to the balls. He groaned as he grabbed himself and crouched over before also taking a kick to the face that sent him flying backward to the ground.

"I am no one's шлюха, Vasily. You'd do well to remember that," she responded angrily. "I'm also no longer a little girl, and I will not sit still while you put your hands on me." She grinned down at him. "Besides, aren't I too old for you now?"

In seconds, the man was on his feet, a knife in his hand. Clint wondered what his best play was here. He wasn't sure that the man was a real threat to her, even with the knife. The guy seemed like a bad guy, but could he sit by and watch her kill him without intervening? On the other hand, could he really watch this guy kill her? He realized that was a strange question, since that was exactly what he was here to do.

"You are nothing more than an orphan, Natalia. A little girl abandoned by a mother and father that wanted nothing to do with you. It is true that you were lucky enough to be trained by some of the best that Russia has to offer, but to what end? You are still just a child playing at a man's game," he sneered at her. "You have failed in your mission. Ilya Anvilov will die tomorrow, but you will not see it. Tonight you will die in this alley with no one to mourn for you." The man waved the knife threateningly at her.

"I expect that you are right," she replied flatly, before getting thrown back and crashing hard against the wall. She straightened herself and took a defensive stance. "I have been waiting to die for some time now. Tonight seems as good as any other night." She dived at the man, grabbing on to his right hand, which contained the knife, while using her left to punch him in the mouth. Blood immediately began pouring from his lips.

The fight continued with one of them gaining the upper hand before the other took it away. The man was much stronger than she was, but she was holding her own and Clint was grudgingly impressed. She was obviously trained well to use her small size and speed, while he was too overconfident in his strength.

When the knife ended up getting thrown in his direction, Clint had finally had enough. "Damnit," he grumbled to himself, before standing up from behind the trash can. He nocked an arrow, pointing it in the direction of the two people fighting, and pulled the string back before letting the arrow fly.